


Dancing in the Morning Sun

by Channelei



Series: Domestic Inarizaki [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, He just loves you and his granny so much pls, Kita is perfection you can't change my mind, Light-Hearted, Marriage, One Shot, Post-Time Skip, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Channelei/pseuds/Channelei
Summary: + Part 2 of theDomestic Inarizaki Series!MANGA SPOILERSKita wakes up in his childhood home to the chaos that is his wife and his grandmother dancing together at 6:15am.[kita shinsuke x reader]
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Reader
Series: Domestic Inarizaki [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887109
Comments: 8
Kudos: 206





	Dancing in the Morning Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Here's part 2 of the domestic series! There is absolutely ZERO angst to be found here, just 2000+ words of pure fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!

Taking on work at a local rice farm is something Kita Shinsuke will never regret.

He loves all of it: the sun kissing his skin, the satisfaction of labouring to reap bounties of produce, the smell of the earth and the flowering plants. He adores it and would never trade it for any other work in the world. The best part about working in the fields is that he is never far from home, and that means being able to spend every moment he can by your side. 

At first he had been considering moving away to study in Tokyo after graduation. He stressed over having a long-distance relationship with you and leaving his Granny alone in their country-side town. He even went to her for advice on multiple occasions. "Please do what would make ya happy," she told him in that sweet voice she always had when addressing her beloved grandson. And that's exactly what he did.

Kita went around Hyogo to visit different small companies, testing out what he wanted and what kind of career he would follow. It wasn't until he stepped out of an air conditioned building into the blistering summer heat to see you leaning against his truck that something clicked inside of him. You urged him to park the car and go on a stroll together before he broke into a smile reserved only for you. 

You had walked together hand in hand, the gentle wisps of summer air breezing against your bodies as you visited your friend who had just begun working at a rice farm. Kita was immediately hooked. Whether it was because the work looked simple and routinely, or because he loved the way you looked standing in that field with the wind making your sundress flow behind you, he couldn't tell. But Kita was entranced and he figured that if it meant seeing you like this whenever you came by to visit, then the hard labour would all be worth it. His mind was made up.

He worked for several years while you attended university in Kobe, not too long of a train ride away from each other. And by the time you graduated and found a job, Kita had more than enough saved up to find a house for the both of you. You settled a hop skip and a jump away from his childhood home where the air was fresher and the fields were more expansive.

The small home you had decided on was cozy and made of slate grey stone. The shingling on the roof was just redone into a black colour that draped over the top floor window and shadowed the flowers sitting on the sill. The door was made of American oak, lined along the rim with cherrywood. The house itself was small, but the yard in the back was massive. "It should be enough for us to grow our own produce for dinner," Kita had explained when you first moved in.

Life was good. He worked hard and so did you to keep up with the mortgage. And while your life wasn't necessarily _luxurious_ , it was comfortable and quiet.

Mornings were slow and warm. You woke up in Kita's arms sunrise after sunrise, and he would spare you a few minutes of cuddling and kisses before he got up to get ready to leave for work. You would follow him out of the warmth of your bedsheets, rushing downstairs to pack him a lunch and write a cute love note while he changed. He would kiss your forehead and bid you goodbye, then he would pull out of the driveway with that trusty pickup of his and disappear into the distance.

Nights were calming and inviting. The breeze carried much easier out where your house was situated away from big buildings and streetlights. You had a few neighbours, but they too had large yards with hardly any trees. You were often in the arms of your husband sipping away at whatever drink he was craving that night, out on the back porch made of wood planks. With your feet dangling together he would spoil you with affection, listening to whichever story you decided to tell about work that day.

Everyday life was a carefully constructed routine built over a few months after settling down. Kita liked it that way, and so long as there were no complaints on your end he was incredibly happy.

______________________

Kita stirs under the blanket, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. The room is still dim and cold, signs that the sun hasn't fully risen yet. When he reaches over to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer only to have it flop over a pillow, he groans quietly in confusion.

"[f/n]?" he calls out groggily. His voice is still husky from sleep when his mind finally catches up to him in his delirium. As expected there's no response. When his brain finally finishes buffering, he pushes himself up from his resting position and leans back on his elbows. The bedroom he's in smells like his childhood; like his grandmother and like the incense she's burning downstairs. Kita huffs, shifting around to get a good look at the clock above the door.

 _6:02am_.

It’s his fourth morning waking up here. Taking a week off work to come back to your old town was a good idea, especially if it meant staying with Granny. Usually you’re in his arms sound asleep by the time he is awake, but today you’re no where in sight. 

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand while he rolls out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants when he's fully standing. In the bathroom he rummages around the drawers to grab the toothbrush he packed with him and prepares to brush his teeth when --

_What's with the music playing downstairs?_

Kita freezes in place when a familiar song starts blasting from the tv downstairs. He grumbles a bit under his breath, hastening in his motions so he can go check it out. He has a feeling that whatever is going on, he's going to need a very strong cup of coffee to get himself through it. After leaving the bathroom with mint-fresh breath, the silver-haired man decides against checking the living room and instead makes a beeline toward the kitchen.

There is already a pot of coffee sitting on the stove when he gets there, but no sign of his wife. Kita pours himself a mug and concludes that you're definitely the one who is causing so much commotion in the adjacent room. He slips into the common area with coffee in tow, sucking in a deep inhale to prepare himself. All his preparation is still not enough to ready him for the sight.

With the now rising sun, light is pouring into the room from the backdoor like a flood. It fills the room with life and warms up the floor under his feet. The flowers sitting on his Granny's coffee table are beginning to open up in response to the stimulation of the sun. The mug in Kita's hand slips slightly when his eyes meet with yours momentarily, but your gaze tears away from his in seconds.

You're jumping around in the centre of the room, feet moving across the hardwood like silk. He can't stop his eyes from trailing down your legs to where they connect to the floor. He wants to hold them, feel your velvety skin against his and kiss away the bruises forming from your work in the garden with Granny. "What's goin' on?" He finally manages to get out.

Granny, who is dancing right along with you despite her worsening hip, grins cheekily at her grandson standing dumbfounded in the archway. "Dancin'!" She exclaims as if it's not the most obvious thing in the world. Kita's lips purse in dissatisfaction with the answer given.

"But why are ya dancin’ at-" he glances at the clock above the tv, "-6:15 in the mornin’?"

If Kita were more expressive you know that he would definitely be more irritated right about now, but there isn't an ounce of emotion dripping from his face. You giggle, releasing your hands from Granny's and gesturing for your lover to join you. He sighs but places down his mug to comply, taking your hand in his and allowing you to twirl around in his arms.

"Oba-san said dancing is good for the heart," you smile at him, and it's even brighter than the morning sun pouring against the skin of your cheeks. Granny sits herself down on the couch to take a much needed break, a fond expression on her face as she stares at the boy she raised and his loving wife.

“I suppose that’s true,” he shrugs, hands finding their proper place on your hips. They shift underneath the hem of your shirt just slightly so you can feel his fingers streaking along your skin. You shiver in his touch. His hands are rough and calloused from labour, but still just as warm and tender as they were when he was a high schooler.

He rests comfortably in this position with you, swaying back and forth instead of hopping around chaotically like you and his Granny had been doing. Your arms encircle his neck, nose buried under his chin. Giving him a small peck on the space just above his adam’s apple makes him smile into your hair.

“I’m makin’ breakfast, who wants tamagoyaki?” Granny stands up, brushing imaginary dirt off her clothes. Her thick Kansai accent cuts through her sentence in a way that makes you grin. You peel away from your husband immediately, eyes lighting up.

“Me! Me! You make the best tamagoyaki, Oba-san!”

Kita nods along with you until Granny chuckles to herself and saunters over to the kitchen. By now the music has died down and it’s perfectly quiet save for the clinking of a pan in the next room over.

“Hey,” Kita all but whispers before dragging your bodies back together. You stare up at him, skirting your eyes all across his tired face in adoration. He’s grown older, you notice, but he still looks almost exactly like he did a decade ago when you met. Working in the rice fields toned his body into a gift from the gods, but he still had some sort of youthfulness to him.

It’s his eyes, you conclude, when they flutter closed and you no longer feel like you’re staring into a pool of molten honey and sunshine. The golden rays are warm and deep against his skin that is clear of any blemishes. You gather in the sight of him, how beautiful he looks right now dancing slowly in the middle of his childhood living room.

“I love you,” Kita breathes, leaning in to give you a darling kiss on the lips. “Yer the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y’know?”

You know. Even if it wasn't a sentence he whispered every night into your ear before you let sleep overtake you, you would know. Because Kita is the kind of man who never pours less than 100% into everything he does, and your relationship has been no exception. You wake up to fresh cut blossoms sitting on your kitchen table, you're never deprived of loving touches and affection, you've never felt like you're not _enough_.

Kita knows his effect on you, too. He knows you like to see the flowers sitting pretty on the table, that you'll never refuse to be held and kissed, that you'll never feel incomplete because he absolutely won't allow it. Happy wife, happy life - that's what his grandmother had told him when he was young, and _boy_ was she right. The smile that twirls across your lips is serene and peaceful. Nostalgia courses through his veins at the mere sight of it.

"I love you, too, Shinsuke."

Your husband brushes your noses together in lieu of a proper response. His usually stoic face has cascaded into one of fondness. He's worshipping you right now, about what specifically he's unsure. But the way the now fully risen sun makes hues of marigold and canary yellow seep across your delicate skin is definitely helping his cause.

"You are so beautiful," Kita murmurs, "I'm so glad ya married me." There isn't a hint of reluctance in his voice (there never is) and it makes you giddy. You're interrupted just as you push away a few loose strands of silver hair from his face.

"[f/n]-chan, would ya like to learn my secret recipe?" Granny pokes her head out of the archway. You squeal in excitement and nearly leap out of the man's arms. He chuckles as he watches you bound across the room and disappear into the kitchen.

This is his childhood home, the place he grew up, the place that he loved with the woman who forged him into the man he is today. And with you here bringing new life to dusty memories, Kita feels incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful woman by his side.


End file.
